Sandcastles
by Waste of Space
Summary: Childhood provides freedom from many things, but the beauty of a moment if often lost and Ginny finds that only a photograph remains.


The little girl sat in the sand, missing the company of her six brothers. In a house so full of people, it was rare that one found a moment to themselves, but now that Ginny was alone on this stretch of beach, she was lonely.

This had become her first summer of independence. Being the youngest, she was often forgotten among the bustle of her brothers' return from school. She had begun to take refuge outside, using her imagination to create a world where she was the center the pivotal character of everything. The constant beating down of the sun had bleached her normally fiery red hair to a strawberry blond, and it flowed behind her with the wind of the ocean, as Ginny sat alone during this family vacation to the beach.

Beginning to feel bored, Ginny grabbed her plastic bucket and moved to a smooth untouched area of sand. She began to dig, forcing her way into the sand feeling it as it started to become cool, moist and compactable. The denser heavier wet sand was burrowing under her nails and just as she was removing her hands from the ground in order to examine her tattered cuticles, Ginny heard a voice behind her.

"You're not doing it right," this stranger said to her, arrogant.

Ginny indignantly looked up into the face of a very blond boy, who seemed to be near her age. She had reached five years of age and surely this boy could not surpass seven.

"Then how do you do it," she replied, not letting this foreign boy make her believe that she was and inferior sandcastle builder.

"Like this," he said, stealing her bucket and since Ginny remained helpless to stop him. He ran to the sea full of childhood elation and filled the bucket all the way to the top with water. He sprinted back to Ginny, arriving with only half the water left. Throwing the salty liquid onto the sand, he said "See."

"You've just made the sand wet," Ginny said unimpressed.

"It's better than digging," the boy replied, not seeming to care that Ginny was very unenthusiastic about his sandcastle building display.

"My name's Draco," the boy continued, "What's yours?"

"Ginny," Ginny replied, beginning to become grateful for the boy's presence, because he was certainly decreasing her level of boredom.

The two children began to work together on the sandcastle. With the most sand that Ginny has dug up and the moistened sand Draco had created, the castle compacted together into the most wonderful thing that a five year girl and a six year old boy could hope for. Their names were forgotten. I was not important. It was just important to have fun, and they were having fun, playing in the sand with the freedom from worry that came along with being so young.

After the castle had been built to three stories of sand splendor, Ginny exclaimed in joy. It was now her turn to run away in childhood elation. She returned carrying the Polaroid camera her father had magicked.

"Let's take a picture of us with the sandcastle," Ginny exclaimed in joy.

"Okay," Draco replied, even then showing some of the cool uncaring manner that would grow to be his complete demeanor.

The two of them stood on either side of the castle and Ginny turned the camera around and took a picture.

"Do you want one?" she asked.

"Sure," Draco replied.

So, Ginny pushed the small red button on the camera again. Being only five, she missed them, twice. But, that was the beauty of wizard photos. When the pictures developed, the two images sidled within the frame, trying to push the sandcastle with them. Sadly, it crashed to the ground, but not demurred the miniature Ginny and Draco once again began to build. A little bit of childhood freedom forever captured in two Polaroid pictures.

Thinking as one, Ginny and Draco stood and kicked the castle to smithereens. Just as they were finishing, they heard a distant calling.

"Draco, where are you?" it was Draco's mother.

"Don't forget your photo," Ginny called after Draco as he ran off. Hurriedly he turned back, grabbed the picture, and then hearing his mother's voice become more frantic, he ran even faster in the other direction.

"Bye," Ginny called after him.

Then a sound of laughter was heard traveling nearer. The laughter abruptly stopped.

"Ginny," her mother yelled, anger masking the fear withing, "What are you doing by yourself? I told Bill to watch you."

Ginny shrugged and telling her mother that he had gone off with Charley, and in the bustle of getting ready to leave the beach, and in the bustle that was the next years of her life, Ginny began to forget about that chance encounter of a little boy at the beach. The only evidence left became the slightly bent and sand scratched picture of two blond children eternally building the perfect sand castle.


End file.
